


Charcoal

by exmachinarium



Category: Narcissus and Goldmund - Hermann Hesse
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 22:57:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/exmachinarium/pseuds/exmachinarium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The afternoon is blissfully warm, the softest of winds sifting through the leaves without disturbing stray droplets, remnants of the morning rain. In languid rays of the Sun, Mariabonn and all lands surrounding it gain an almost dreamlike quality. And perhaps this is what prompts Narcissus to request a most peculiar thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charcoal

**Author's Note:**

> Requested at the LJ drabble meme by a friend; at first I was nervous about writing something for such a deep, meaningful book... But then I just let it flow and everything drifted together beautifully.

The afternoon is blissfully warm, the softest of winds sifting through the leaves without disturbing stray droplets, remnants of the morning rain. In languid rays of the Sun, Mariabonn and all lands surrounding it gain an almost dreamlike quality. And perhaps this is what prompts Narcissus to request a most peculiar thing.

"Draw me what you see."

The golden-haired boy looks up in amazement, for a brief moment not even sure he heard correctly, not even sure his friend spoke at all. Yet in those grey, steady eyes, he sees a confirmation erasing his previous doubts, and, finding it unnecessary to voice his consent, takes out a scrap of parchment and charcoal from his pouch (carrying those items with him at all times in case of a sudden bout of inspiration).

Before he begins, Goldmund lets his eyes drift closed, relishing in the warm glow beneath his eyelids; observing the intricate mosaic woven in shades of red by sunbeams only for him to admire. 

He knows well that what Narcissus wishes to see is not the impressive structure of their monastery, the meadows, the old mill... Not even the sky up above. That is why he barely opens his eyes as he begins to trace black lines across the parchment; not even looking up, no longer aware of the monastery, the mill, the sky... Not even of Narcissus, still sitting there, his incredible eyes fixed on Goldmund, patiently waiting. He feels only his own hand tracing shapes on the white surface before him, closely followed by another, familiar one - the soft hand of his Mother; bringing life into his creation, making the shapes flow, dance, change into what becomes an infinity of death and rebirth, the cycle of life no longer black and white, but lush with colours, pulsing with relentless energy of Nature, just like the veins of his Mother's hand.

Once he is done, the vision floats away, slipping away with the wind and dissolving under soft sunbeams, leaving the boy with a sense of longing and abandonment. Goldmund exhales, a little shakily and, not wanting to keep his friend waiting, hands the parchment over to Narcissus. His mentor examines it, thin fingers hovering just above the parchment, careful not to smear the lines; the pale boy calm and composed, not letting even the slightest fraction of emotion flicker through his face.

The usual thing to ask of a person at such moments would be whether they liked it or not. But Goldmund knows it's not what he wants to learn from Narcissus right now.

"What do _you_ see?" he inquires instead, timidly, the words reaching Narcissus' ears only because they sit so close together.

The other boy looks up unhurriedly, and when their eyes meet, Goldmund discovers his friend's gaze filled with so much tenderness and affection that it makes his own heart instantly overflow with adoration and love.

_You, my dearest Goldmund,_ Narcissus' eyes whisper to him, _I see you._


End file.
